


there’s nothing like a little pain to remind you you’re alive

by foxxwrites



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Divergence - Avengers: Endgame (Movie), carol danvers is in this for more than 5 seconds, clint gets help not murder, darcy lewis is a babe, everyones lowkey flirting with each other i cant help myself, okoye isn't ignored in this one, rhodey appreciation here, there's a happy ending that is all, thor & jane actually acknowledge each other, tony needs a hug and imma give it to him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-02-16 20:43:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18698797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxxwrites/pseuds/foxxwrites
Summary: i rewrite endgame and put in jokes instead of sadness (mostly anyway)





	1. home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kaaterinapetrova](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaaterinapetrova/gifts).



She flees, wind whipping against her face and planets passing by like a busy highway. She flees a fight for once in her life because— _for emergencies only_ , and he says _well_ but seems to understand because when aliens invade, both good and bad, he never calls—and she’s _almost_ insulted but he’s got his own aliens now, or Avengers as she’s heard.

Carol can’t help the pit of worry forming in her stomach, because she quite _likes_ the residents of Planet C-53 you know, and her mind is bubbling with thoughts, theories, _threats_ , because he’s called her now, after all this time. Knowing Fury, knowing how he operates, it’s worrying because he isn’t ever afraid, pissed off, yes, exasperated, always, but if he’s used the pager _after all this time_ , he must feel some semblance of _fear_.

She lands, gracefully, beside the pager, and his car, its open doors. She worries. Glancing around the abandoned cars, the fallen bikes, the empty street, Carol takes a deep breath. Plucking the pager, examining it, running her dainty fingers along it, she stares at the pile of dust her shoes tip against.

Carol strolls around the black SUV and sits into the drivers seat. She effortlessly flicks open the glove box and rummages through the papers there. The hairs on the back of her neck stand up, warning her, and she perks her ears to the noise.

The tittering, the small movements from behind her, she balls her hand into a fist, ready to let the energy course through it, to light this sucker up. The noise looms closer, making its way toward her. Carol swings around, her eyes and fist aflame, her facial expression threatening, prepared for a fight.

“...Goose?”

It’s a nice surprise, it is, almost as if she had never left, the ginger Flerken curls itself onto her lap, purring merrily. She wonders why Fury would keep her, what purpose he could possibly have for such an unstable, unpredictable creature but she smiles, presuming, hoping, _knowing_ , it was very clearly sentiment. How soft the people of this planet are, how distracted by small blobs of fur, and Fury, he was the worst of them, so _soft_. But, honestly, that’s what Carol liked about them.

Turning her attention back to the glove compartment in the car, she finds a piece of paper with Emergency Protocol written on it in bold, black letters. She flips the paper around and it reveals the words;

 **In the event I am inaccessible,**  
**Find Tony Stark.**

“Can’t believe he didn’t even mention me,” Carol shakes her head at Goose, who purrs in response. Guess it’s time to find Tony Stark.

* * *

“The Iron Man?” Carol says incredulously, her eyes scanning over the words on the phone screen, “I am so much cooler than the Iron Man,” Goose meows in agreement, probably, “He doesn’t even have powers.”

Grabbing the Flerken, Carol pushes herself off of the streets of New York and into Earth’s clear, blue sky. She plunges forward, the same speed as a bullet leaving a gun, flies through the air and halts steadily in front of the Stark building.

“He picks a guy that has to slap his name on everything over me?” Goose blinks up at her, tucked carefully under Carol’s right arm.

Carol lands elegantly on the roof of the building. A blonde female is rushing around inside, grabbing keys, then a jacket, then a bag. Carol taps on the glass of the window with her left knuckle. The woman jumps and turns to look at her, mouth wide open. Carol waves and Goose meows.

* * *

Nebula finds herself staring at the bleak blackness around her. Two geniuses stuck in a spaceship and still they have not found a way to survive their journey to nowhere, not to be confused with knowhere, a horrid planet that Nebula finds she would much rather be heading to at the current moment.

She does not fear death, and yet she is anxious, her veins throbbing from the heat of both her inner pain and the hot as hell broken spaceship, her need for revenge growing like a well watered plant. She does not fear death but she is furious at it, death took her sister and she doesn’t know what life she has without her, what purpose.

Nebula has known rage and the overwhelming urge for vengeance, but not like this, her heart hurts, an organ in her body that has betrayed her many times before, but now it is being squashed, a mere strawberry in the hands of grief, _vulnerable_. She can’t breathe, she feels lightheaded, she blames the heat.

“You okay, Star Trek?”

“I am fine,” but she’s not, and she really can’t seem to be able to breathe, her body is not cooperating and she grips the edges of the table, laboured breaths escaping her mouth, betraying her.

“We’re going to figure this out,” he says, his voice croaky from dehydration, “I mean, on the bright side, our only problem at the minute is not dying from heat stroke and then lack of oxygen. Which is petty change compared to the not dying from kicking Thanos in his big, purple, Barney ass.”

“Why did you face him? On Titan. Why where you there?” Nebula’s curiousity is eating at her, worries nibbling at her atoms, her cells, her _circuits_ , what were his motives? Trust was new to her and shared loss was not a good enough solvent to meld this union together.

“Uh, I was trying to save the world,” he shrugs his left shoulder, his right clutching an orange screwdriver, his helmet dismantled on the ground in front of him.

“Why?”

“Because I live there,” the Terran narrows his eyes, softens them again, then sighs, his right hand forms a C shape and he allows his head to fall into it, “Because,” he meets her eye, head shaking, “Somebody had to.”

“You are a hero?”

“I,” he inhales a sharp breath of hot, suffocating space air, “I tried. But as you said, he won.”

Nebula observes the man, blue head tilted and fingers wiggling in thought, “He always has,” she admits softly, “But no more.”

He furrows his eyebrows, looking up at the Luphomoid, “How could you—There isn’t a way to defeat him you just saw him turn people into—” He stops, gulps, clears his throat, eyes dancing with conflicting emotions.

“He took my sister from me,” her robotic drawl echoes around the spaceship, “I only just got her, I will not allow him to take everything from me _and_ live. He’s already taken so much, but now, _now_ , I have nothing left to lose,” he nods solemnly, “Besides, if I put half as much energy into killing Thanos as I did into trying to kill Gamora I’ll have him dead by sunrise.”

“Wait, isn’t your sis—What?”

* * *

Carol drops Pepper onto the ground outside of the Avengers building. She smirks, examining the sleek metal and spotless glass windows, proud of Fury for how far he’s come, a tiny bit smug that she started it all.

“Uh, I’ll go inside and,” Pepper opens her mouth, doesn’t know what to say, and then closes it and walks hastily inside of the compound.

Carol watches her with calculating eyes. It’s been a long time since she has had any interaction with anyone from Planet C-53—her _home_. She swallows, casting her gaze to the ground, two lives inside her head and yet she feels like she’s lived none at all, saving other people’s homes instead of settling into her own.

“Um, hi,” James Rhodes strides out of the compound, struggling to find something to say, sending Pepper a distressed look.

“Hello,” Carol greets him, perfectly relaxed.

“We’re, uh— _Who_ exactly are you?” Rhodey tilts his head, his eyes flickering between the new blonde and the ginger cat licking itself by her feet.

Carol’s lips twitch, “Fury did this?”

“The Avengers? Yeah. The building? Tony.”

She shrugs, “I’m surprised he restrained himself from putting his name on it.”

“He offered to put mine,” Pepper breathes a laugh, standing awkwardly.

“That might have been worse,” Pepper blinks, Rhodey smirks, and Carol seems to have finished her assessment of the area, “Where are the,” Carol tries not to smile, “The Avengers?”

“Inside,” Rhodey tells her and she strolls off toward the entrance, hips swaying, blonde locks flowing in the wind, Goose at her heels.

“Does she not like me?” Pepper whispers to Rhodey as they follow after the super woman and her cat.

“Can you imagine a building with a large ‘Pots’ shining on it?”

Pepper frowns, “I didn’t choose to be called Pots. What about Pepper?”

“A giant building named Pepper?”

“I just can’t win. You know not everyone is born with such flashy, building-worthy names like Stark.”

“You do have a name more suited for a rabbit.”

“Hey!”

* * *

In space, for the second time, stranded, doomed, losing hope, Tony Stark plays a game.

“You just flick, it’s all in the wrist,” he instructs the blue alien, her gaze concentrated on his open fingers. Nebula’s finger thumps the tiny piece of paper and it flips over Tony’s hand, “That’s it. Yup, you won.”

“I,” she blinks in surprise, cautiously glances at him, eyes wide, “I won?”

“Yep,” he shrugs, “You’re a natural. I’ll teach you another game tomorrow, something more stimulating.”

Nebula nods curtly, slowly rising from her seat, hiding her smile by turning to walk away from him.

Tony observes her, how it seems to really, truly matter to her, a small victory or even a simple accomplishment rising her self esteem. He notices her becoming more relaxed as the long, hot, stuffy days go by, she speaks more, gradually, even looks him in the eye once or twice with something other than suspicion. He notices this, when he’s not thinking.

Thinking about feeling Peter's frail body in his hands, watching dust slip through his fingertips, tears lurking in his eyes. He feels like he killed him himself, it hurts as much. Peter Parker should have stayed in Queens, he should have stayed _home_ , where he was safe, where he wasn’t corrupted by the Stark allure to tragedy. Tony was arrogant to think he could step a foot in this kid's life and not leave dirty— _dusty_ —footprints everywhere.

Tony sits in space and only knows one thing to be certain, if he doesn’t die in this steel prison, then he will get everyone back. He will right this wrong, and he will not stop until he does, or until he dies trying.

* * *

Carol glides into the room, eyes scanning every person in it, she halts, places her hands on her hips, “Right then, it’s time to save the world.”

Goose meows, tail wagging eagerly.

“Now, does anyone know where I can find Tony Stark?”


	2. found

The silence stretches far and wide, hitting every inch of steel in the rickety spaceship, it makes Tony tap his leg, stretch his arms in various ways, pull faces at the mirror. His hallelujah moment, his rescue from all of the mind-numbing quiet, comes when rummaging through the messy spaceship for parts to use to hopefully get them back to Earth, somehow.

“Hello,” he whispers, smiling devilishly at the open drawer, glancing at his alien shipmate, sees she’s busy sharpening one of her many swords. Tony feels an immense sense of joy as he carefully, stealthily, _sneakily_ , tweaks the machine in his hands to do what he requires.

Nebula is relaxed, content, _satiated_ , as she studies the blade she carefully massages with her sharpening knife. A small smile reaches her blue lips and her eyes haze over as she imagines the blade gliding through the air, an extension of her own hand, she pictures the moment she watches it sink into Thanos' ﬂesh, as easy and as delicious as biting into ripe Yaro Root.

She is enjoying herself in her mind, with her fantasies, when she hears a _click_.

“Ooga-chaka, ooga—”

“NO!”

* * *

Darcy Lewis has seen gods fall from the sky, aliens attack main street, flying hammers and vanishing portals, but it still surprises her when Erik straight up turns to _dust_.

She looks around frantically, her gaze settling on Jane, “Did you do that?”

Jane blanches, “What? Me? No!”

“Are you sure? Cause you did suck up a whole Aether thingy once.”

“It wasn’t—” Jane’s mouth falls open, her eyes widening.

Darcy follows Jane’s shocked gaze out of the lab window, her eyes widen upon seeing a man she recognises as their rental building neighbour turning to dust, wind sweeping him away into nothing, vanished as if he were never there.

Darcy gasps, “Oh my god, finally, the men are dying.”

Jane narrows her eyes, shaking her head, rushes around trying to find her mobile, “I’m going to call SHIELD. Maybe they know what’s going on.”

Darcy raises an eyebrow, lips pursing in judgement, “They probably caused it.”

“Just help me find my phone!” Jane hisses.

“Wow. Relax,” Darcy holds her hands up in surrender, “Clearly, the male species have been struck by the mighty force of _karma_. And, it’s about time.”

* * *

 “I think he’s in Space,” Bruce offers this information to the blonde woman who is apparently in charge now.

“Could you narrow that down?” she raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him.

Bruce looks around the room sheepishly, “No?”

“Maybe we could track the suit?” Natasha suggests, her hands on her hips.

“With what?” Bruce asks, head tilting in her direction.

Natasha shrugs, “Technology?”

Bruce jumps up suddenly, “Yes!” He runs over to a computer.

Natasha smiles, sends a smug look in Thor's direction, “Well, maybe I’m the best avenger.”

Thor frowns, Steve smirks, and Carol nods her head.

“No, no, you just reminded me that I can access Friday’s server and find the current or last active coordinates,” Bruce tells them, eyes flicking across the computer screen, fingers typing manically.

“Ha,” Thor exclaims, “The best avenger?” He shakes his head and Natasha rolls her eyes.

* * *

He was so young, Peter Parker, wanting to save people, wanting to help any way he could, he didn’t ask for his powers, he didn’t put himself in the game, and, yet, he lost. He didn’t deserve this. None of them deserved this. Billions of people ripped from their lives because Thanos wanted to play god, wanted to force the world to do as he says, _be_ as he says. What was it all for? If he was unhappy with life he shouldn’t end others, he should end his own.

This is what Tony is thinking about when Nebula lowers herself down on the step beside him.

“How did you get into this?”

He turns to look at her, “Into space?”

“Into being the hero,” she watches him with interest.

Tony shrugs, “Captured by terrorists.”

Nebula nods, “I was also captured, by a large, purple, mad man.”

“God,” Tony tosses his sweat-covered cloth to the ground, “We both deserve a drink.”

“I admire you,” Nebula’s low voice echoes in Tony’s ears.

“You shouldn’t,” he rubs his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Every night I hear you,” she tells him, he feels heat lighting his cheeks red, “You go down to the engine room and stare at the same problem neither of us can fix. You stare as if one night you’ll miraculously notice something you didn’t before. I admire your persistence, your passion, in trying to save the day. I’ve never had that. I’ve only ever known rage and fear.”

Tony places his oil-stained hand atop her blue one tenderly, “I’ve been afraid since I first encountered Thanos’ army. I’ve been angry since, well, since I was born, really, and all of it has gotten me to here, to now,” he chokes out a laugh, “Becoming a hero isn’t something to admire, it’s something to avoid, and, just U-turn away from, immediately.”

Nebula’s eyes examine Tony’s face as he stares at the spaceship wall, “You miss the boy.”

He swallows roughly, “Yeah,” a whisper that rockets through his throat, leaving behind thick wads of guilt, pain, _misery_ , in his very lungs.

“I find myself, shockingly, wishing for the noise of the arguing between the fox, the tree, the red one, the insect, the Terran, and, and, my sister.”

Tony grips her hand, she squeezes his, neither looking at each other.

Tony breaks the silence, “They were idiots.”

“They were, yes.”

There’s something about grief that one minute you’re smiling at a blue alien and the next you feel like the wind is being knocked from your lungs, your head is falling, _heavy_ , so very _heavy_ , towards the ground, your whole body is failing, your vision is slowly getting fogged over by the blackest, thickest, haziest of clouds.

“Stark? Stark? Tony!”

* * *

Carol lands on Titan, takes in the empty, bleak, _abysmal_ surroundings. She bends to inspect the scraps of red metal on the ground, hopes the man Fury trusted to save Earth wasn’t dust, and takes off, searching for the broken spaceship, eyeing the parts she had found dubiously.

It should only take her an hour to search all routes to Earth, if she’s clever about it, and, of course, she is. Higher, further, _faster_ , baby.

* * *

Nebula sits on the floor, trying not to think about the Terran she’s almost positive is dying in the pilot seat, trying not to think about how if he dies she will be _alone_ , once again, but also stranded in space, trying not to think about what she’d do with his body, she’d feel horribly guilty throwing him out of the space door. Which surprises her, she realises, she hadn’t meant to make attachments, she hadn’t meant to care for him, they were supposed to be travel partners and then when Thanos’ eyes are held in her hands, and she squeezes, breaking him apart like he did her, she was never supposed to see the Iron Man again.

Tony’s eyes flutter open, he inhales air but it hurts to do so, he feels weak, his body too heavy, like it won’t support him any more, and why should it? Why should anyone support him? He just gets people killed, innocent kids that had no place on an alien planet.

Nebula sees him as a hero, racing back to his planet to fix everyone’s messes, but that isn’t him, not when he started it all. All those years ago he put a target on Earth’s back, and maybe he wasn’t the only one, but he still did it, it was his guilt that made him save people.

He tells himself every day, that he’s not good enough, he’s not worthy to be considered this giant hero when he’s just cleaning up after his own mess. Tony _feels_ like a mess, he feels scattered into atoms, pulled apart at the seams, bones crying out to just end it, just stop. Stop it all. Time to stop. Stop— _What_ is that?

He thought it was a star, at first, or maybe the fiery pits of hell here to welcome him home, but then he realised, the star was wearing a suit.

* * *

Rhodey watches the flaming ball of light come closer and closer to the compound, he considers that it’s more damn aliens here to make matters ten times worse, because that’s just his luck, but then he watches the ginger cat let out a cry and run toward the door.

“Damn,” he mutters to himself, “I didn’t think she’d do it.”

Carol lands easily on the grass, placing the spaceship down beside her, like leaving down a piece of Lego. She watches the Avengers run toward her, and _yeah_ she feels a little cocky, sue her, because they do look very impressed.

“Where were you in the Battle against those horrible alien zombies?” Okoye points at her, looking disappointed in everyone, which is becoming her default facial expression these days.

“Single-handedly trying to maintain peace between the Kree and the Skrulls,” Carol raises her eyebrows at her, shrugging.

Okoye nods along, “I don’t know what any of that means but I am glad that you’re here now.”

The ship doors slide open, Pepper and Rhodey run toward them as they see Tony barely standing, weight being supported by a blue alien.

Nebula exposes her swords, one in each hand, Tony leaning against her, carefully placed in-between her weapons, she points them at the people rushing toward her, “State your name and intentions.”

One long, silver blade tips off of Pepper’s throat, “Pepper Potts, to hug my fiancée?”

“Ah,” Nebula lowers her swords, “I’ll allow it.”

Tony feels arms around his shoulders and familiar voices surrounding him, both relief and dread fill his head. He lets out a shaky breath and holds onto the arms around him, inhaling the expensive perfume Pepper always wears, clings to her, because he’s shocked she’s survived, he’s shocked to still have one thing, and he really doesn’t think he deserves it.


	3. hope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kaaterinapetrova's endgame fic is the only light in my life please go read it it's so much better than this

Nebula approaches the other Terran as Pepper hugs Tony, “You are Tony’s sidekick?”

Rhodey blinks, tilting his head, eyes on his idiot friend, “I’m sorry, what?”

Nebula nods, “Tony said you are his...Robin?”

“Oh no,” Rhodey shakes his head, eyes widening, sending Tony a _I’d-shoot-you-if-I-didn’t-think-this-blue-girl-would-stab-me_ angry stare.

Nebula looks between her new friend and his sidekick and inquires slowly, unsure, “He said I should ask you, if you would give me some of your chocolate?”

Rhodey chokes upon hearing the deliberate innuendo, mouth falling open in surprise, “ _TONY!_ ”

Tony raises his head from Pepper’s shoulder, eyes opening slowly, his defeated face brightening slightly, he studies Rhodey’s unenthusiastic face and Nebula’s confusion and snorts, “Did she do it? Did she say it? Did I miss it?”

“You’re a dead man,” Rhodey points a finger at him, lips twitching ever so slightly.

“I don’t understand,” Nebula breathes out in her stony, robotic voice.

“Tony, uh,” Rhodey smirks, pushes a laugh down, “He made an awful, horrible, _ridiculous_ joke.”

Nebula looks to Tony and he smiles at her, she returns her gaze to his sidekick, “I don’t get it.”

Rhodey shoots her an awkward smile, feeling immense hatred for his obnoxious dick of a best friend, “Yeah.”

“I got it,” Okoye nods, “Funny,” she says, face vacant of any expression. Rhodey blinks, wonders what he’s got himself into, shakes his head at these supposed heroes, and walks toward the compound.

“Tony,” Nebula watches her new Terran friend flinch at the grovelling voice, she eyes the bearded man approaching suspiciously, “We _—”_ of all the things Steve had prepared to say, none of them seemed efficient enough, not when the eyes of his former friend (or, colleague, _maybe_ ) glare into his guilty soul.

Natasha steps forward, calculating eyes flicking between the men, Nebula notices the way the woman holds herself, tall, charming, _confident_ , it reminded her desperately of Gamora, “ We all could use some rest, some food, to recollect ourselves, then we should talk.”

“Good idea,” Pepper says, taking Tony’s arm and leading him inside, Nebula studies Tony’s face, how his eyes refuse to look in the direction of the bearded Terran, how his brow is heavy with sweat, how his hands clench at his sides, and she wonders what has occurred between them, but also ponders on the fact that all families, no matter what planet they inhabit, are never granted the simple pleasure of _happiness_.

She thinks about loyalty, and how every time when she was young, she poisoned her sister’s drink, set up traps in her sleeping area, or set free beasts from their cages to attack her in her most vulnerable moments, her sister always trusted her, she worked with Nebula, included her in her plan against Thanos, she always gave her a chance. Nebula finds a rusty screw in the place of her heart, turning and turning, pulling at all her organs, twisting painfully, infecting them all with its ugly, brown colour.

"You okay?” Nebula’s hand instantly grips her sword but she relaxes it, holding her head high, examining the new Terran.

“Fine,” the lie falls out of her mouth, like sticky, black venom, dripping from her sharp, gleaming teeth.

The Terran nods, “I’m Bruce.”

“Nebula.”

“Ah, interstellar cloud. Awesome name.”

“Thanos gave it to me.”

Bruce scratches his head, “ _Oh_.”

Carol appears beside them, eyes shining with amusement, “Shall we go inside?”

Nebula and Bruce nod, he points sheepishly at the blue alien, “No, I was just—Sometimes I’m green, so I thought we might,” the two ladies blink at him, “Get along? Yeah, let’s go inside.”

Bruce looks backwards to Natasha and Steve for help.

Natasha smirks, “Have you been to Earth before?” she asks Nebula.

“Not personally. I did assist in attacking it once,” Nebula admits, nonplussed, everyone looks around awkwardly, “But, not any more.”

Natasha nods, Carol smirks, Bruce raises his eyebrows and pushes up his bottom lip, and Steve places a hand on Nebula’s shoulder, “No one asks for their life to change, it’s what you do afterwards that counts.”

Natasha snorts, “Wow, okay, _Captain_.”

“Should we start hanging your banners now, Captain? Or do you need a stage set up?” Bruce teases.

“Ha. Ha. Very funny,” Steve joins his hands together behind his back and begins to stroll toward the compound.

Bruce points a finger at him, “Are you going to dance now? Or do you need to change first?”

Natasha smirks, “Oh, he _has_ to change. He’s got to have his tights,” she insists, “For flexibility.”

“Shut up,” Steve whispers and shakes his head as they snigger playfully at him.

Carol and Nebula follow behind the trio, “I appreciate that you rescued us,” Nebula nods gratuitously.

Carol assumes that’s her way of saying 'thank you', “I appreciate that you didn’t slice my head off when I boarded,” though she had tried.

Carol shoots her a smile, and Nebula finds herself smiling back.

* * *

 It hadn’t been that long ago that Tony was bleeding out in an old Hydra bunker in Siberia, left to die so far from home, crushed under his own suit, a shield his father made to protect his first creation shoved in his chest, which was not only extremely hurtful but damn, Steve, was it _unnecessary_.

How could he watch Barnes murder his parents with his bare hands and just let that go? How could Steve ask him to? But he wasn’t Steve, he was Captain America, and Howard Stark made him, so of course he would sabotage Tony’s life. Tony saw the slight tinge of guilt in Steve’s eyes when he arrived, screaming out that he hasn’t meant it, not really, _but if you hadn’t meant it to hurt that much, Steve, why did you push so damn hard?_

“Tones,” Rhodey’s voice is soft, gentle, _worried_.

“I’m fine,” but there’s bile in his throat and an IV in his arm.

“You need to drink this.”

Tony blanches, “That’s disgusting.”

“That’s medicine.”

“I have an acute phobia of ingesting anything that looks like a sample of swamp water.”

“Tony,” Pepper pleads, head tilting persuasively, he rolls his eyes, but ultimately swallows the grey liquid.

“If I die, that was the cause,” he snarks, “And it’s on you,” Pepper rolls her eyes and goes back to typing an email to the senate.

Tony waves to Nebula as she enters the room, she nods to him in return, taking in the sleek professionalism of the decor, a building empty of familiarity, of homeliness, _of trust_. Her mouth opens a little involuntarily when her eyes land on Rocket.

Her eyes fill with a thick veil of sadness, her throat burning, “I could not— I _did_ _not_ —” save them, protect them, _defeat him_.

“Neither did I,” Rocket whispers, his little claws clinking together, his head low and heavy on his shoulders.

“What the hell?” Tony points at Rocket, “That thing’s alive?”

“Jackass,” Rocket mutters but his heart isn’t in it, Nebula almost aches to hear the annoying ever-present venom he would spit at everyone, unwarranted and unnecessary, yet it would soothe her, but _no one asks for their life to change_.

For the first time, Tony’s eyes glimmer with _hope_ as Thor strides mournfully into the room, “Alright, God of Thunder, Avengers, Wakandans, Blue Alien Warrior, Talking Raccoon Thing, Sparkly Flying Woman, not a bad turn up at all.”

“If only we had the Hulk,” Rhodey crosses his arms over his chest.

“Yeah, that, or the Tazmanian Devil,” Tony nods enthusiastically.

“He beat the Hulk,” Okoye stands by the doorway, spear in hand, Carol nods appreciatively at her weapon.

“Because he had the Power Stone,” Bruce defends the Hulk, throwing out his hands, exasperated from hearing this repeated, “The hint is in the name, guys.”

“I like our chances,” Tony lies through his teeth to the room of miserable, grieving, potential heroes.

Natasha answers her ringing phone, her face falls, her eyes hardening, “I’m _—_ _I’m so sorry_. I’ll come get you. I’ll _—_ I’ll _come_ ,” Natasha hangs up, her fingers loose on the device, her eyes cast to the ground in a daze, her breathing laboured, she takes a deep breath and faces the room, “Clint. His family. All _—_ _All_ of them,” Natasha shakes her head, gulping quietly.

The room falls silent.

“We’re going to get them back,” Steve grips the corner of the table, eyes fierce and head held high in determination.

“You still have _hope_?”

Steve Rogers straightens his back, his fingers releasing the table and neatly tucking into his sides, “We’re alive. That’s where he failed.”


End file.
